


The Panic in Sweetwater Park

by mogitz



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Five Years Later, Fluff and Angst, Love, Returning Home, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:07:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogitz/pseuds/mogitz
Summary: When Betty Cooper made it out of this town, she had no plans of ever returning. But after a brief stint in a mental hospital following a nervous breakdown, Betty has returned to Riverdale.  When she runs into Jughead, they go on an adventure, revisiting the places they fell in love and fell apart. Maybe it was just the wakeup call she was needing. Long one-shot.





	The Panic in Sweetwater Park

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: Drama/Romance
> 
> Timeline: Five years after graduation
> 
> Pairing: [Betty/Jughead]
> 
> Rating: T-M
> 
> A/N: Based off of a Girls episode called The Panic in Central Park, which was based off a movie called The Panic in Needle Park. It was in my head as a short, angsty one-shot but turned into a 33-page saga. Settle in and enjoy. Leave some love.

* * *

****Betty tugs on the sleeves of her thin, pale-pink sweater with apprehension plaguing her heart. She pulls them down and over her scarred palms as she absently stares out the window of her mother’s car. The world around her slowly passes by - tall, familiar oaks with changing leaves tower over them like watching giants.  Her stomach sinks as Alice flicks on her blinker and makes that all-too-familiar turn.

And there it is: the weathered and tattered sign that feels more like a warning than a welcoming.

 _Welcome to_ _Riverdale, The Town With PEP!_

All growing up, and for as long as Betty can remember, she’d always heard the murmurings: Riverdale is the town that never ages. Nobody comes, nobody goes. Life here is static, everyone merely existing in a real-life purgatory. Rotting away while the rest of the world spins ‘round and ‘round.

But _she_ made it out. And while she never made it very _far_ , she certainly believed that _anywhere_ was better than the dead-end town at the edge of the country. There was nothing left for her here.

Which is why it is so hard to be back, now.

Betty dissolves back into her passenger seat, letting out a long, drawn-out breath.

Alice notices. She reaches over and pats her daughter lovingly on the thigh, “we’re almost home,” she quietly announces.

_Home._

_Not quite._

Betty has not called this place home for over 5 years. While everything looks exactly the same, further confirming her feeling that this town is stuck in some kind of time loop, _everything_ has changed.

_No - wait._

_She_ has changed. When Betty made those grand steps years ago to move on with her life, she thought she was going to be okay.

The hospital bracelet snaked snuggly around her wrist tells a different story.

She fidgets with it, still not quite sure why she hasn’t taken it off yet.

“Polly would like to come over with the twins for dinner tonight. She’s so excited to see you,” Alice says brightly, and then adds, “ _if_ you’re up for it, of course.”

Betty gives her mother a weak smile, an even weaker nod.

“Sure… _sure_ , of course.” Alice seems happy with Betty’s response. She goes on to tell Betty of all the other things she has planned. She’s always been good at that: avoiding. Deflecting. Keeping Betty busy so she can pretend like everything’s perfect. Never less than perfect.

Betty drowns her out as they pass Pop’s. A group of leather-jacket-wearing kids are loitering around and she has to actively force her gaze from them, afraid she’ll see him. Something inside of her can sense that he knows she’s here.

_She can feel it._

* * *

Betty’s old room is like a tomb, untouched for the better half of a decade. Everything is in its place, _exactly_ how she left it. She is almost scared to come in, unsure what memories await her. She sets down her bag and slowly walks toward her bed, running her fingertips along the various mementos from her childhood along the way.

It is quiet in her mind.

_Finally._

She lets go of the breath she’s been holding and plops down onto her bed, burying her face in the pillows and taking in the musty, but sweet, scent. It’s familiar and foreign, all at once. She wants to disappear into her mattress and hide away for eternity. It’s only early evening, but she’s already exhausted.

She’s always exhausted, these days.

When Betty opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is the framed photo on her nightstand - it was Prom night, her senior year. She is beaming happily in the photo, a crown atop her head, her arm linked with Jughead. She was prom queen, but he was not king. Not that he ever wanted to be.

She reaches forward and places the picture frame face down - _these_ are the kind of memories she’s been avoiding and the _sole_ reason she was afraid to come home in the first place.

She huffs out a sigh and sinks back into her pillows when she hears a light knock on her bedroom door. She looks up to see Polly, peering in.

“Betty?”

“Hey Pol,” Betty says, smiling meekly. Polly comes in and Betty scoots over, letting her sister lay beside her on her familiar, pink, double bed.

“I’ve missed you,” Polly tells her, but Betty just nods. She has no capacity to explain why she stayed away for so long. She’s not sure she even knows, anymore.

“Me too. Where are Jason and Sadie?” Betty wonders, but her question is answered when she hears the sound of rambunctious, giggling and squealing little kids echoing up the stairs.

“Playing with dad. Mom is making dinner. I figured you needed some time to rest before I unleashed my demons on you,” Polly jokes, and Betty feels better just being in her sister’s presence. She watches as Polly’s eyes trail over to the ring resting on Betty’s finger.

“How’s Sam?” Polly asks her gently. Betty had underestimated the way hearing his name would make her feel. Guilt washes over her as she looks down at her shiny, golden engagement ring. It weighs down her hand and her heart like an anchor. The familiar feeling of drowning creeps in. “Mom says he’s been really patient with everything…”

“I don’t think he has much of a choice,” Betty murmurs, partly into her pillow.

“Of _course,_ he does. He could have chosen to leave.” Betty doesn’t know what to even say to that. She feels horrible for putting Sam through all of this strife. Eight weeks ago, Betty’s office at a New York newspaper threw her a surprise engagement party. She rounded the corner to find an excited staff, shouting “ _surprise!_ ” under a colorful, ‘congrats!!’ banner. She smiled politely and made conversation for a little while before excusing herself to the bathroom… but instead, she left the building and never came back.

She can’t remember much. She remembers stopping at a convenience store and grabbing a bottle of wine and heading home to drink it all up but even _now_ , she can’t recall what happened next. Just that she awoke in a hospital bed with her mother, father, and Sam standing over her.

 _‘Nervous breakdown_ ,’ they’d said. They claimed that Betty had tried to end her life - that she chased a bottle of pills with a bottle of wine and Sam found her on the couch unresponsive.

But she doesn’t believe that she tried to kill herself. She’d never had a suicidal thought in her life. Still, the doctor and her parents insisted that the pressure was too much and that she should be admitted for inpatient care at Brookhaven - three states away.

So, she went.

And this morning, eight weeks later, she got out. But instead of heading back to her life in NYC… she bought a plane ticket to upstate New York instead. She isn’t sure why, she just knows that she can’t go back to how things were. Not today. Hopefully soon, but not yet. She didn’t even tell Sam until after she failed to board the plane back to La Guardia.

A part of her even wishes that he had just left her while she was in treatment. It would make her having to tell him she doesn’t want to marry him so much easier - at least, she _thinks_ that she doesn’t want to marry him. Very few things are clear to her right now, and her feelings about Sam are certainly foggy.

Polly sighs and rests her hand on Betty’s cheek. “You know, Betty… you don’t have to rush into everything head first. You’re allowed to take your time. We’d love for you to stay. Get to know your niece and nephew? Catch your breath?”

The two of them are startled when they hear a crash from downstairs, followed by one of the twins wailing.

Polly groans, “Just... hold that thought.” She gets up off the bed, dragging her feet back to Betty’s bedroom door.

“Um, Polly? Can I ask…” Betty sits up on her bed, calling out to Polly before she leaves the room. Polly turns, and Betty almost loses her nerve before she asks her, “Do you ever see…”

No. She isn’t even brave enough to say his name. Her words taper off, but Polly nods knowingly.

“Sometimes. Here and there.”

“How… how _is_ he?” Polly gives her a small, acknowledging smile. A shrug.

“Maybe you should ask him yourself. He’s still around, you know. You should see him. Get some closure,” Polly suggests, but Betty knows she isn’t well enough to handle such an idea.

Left alone once more with her thoughts, Betty reaches over and sets her picture frame back up on her nightstand. She feels a small grin tug at the corners of her lips, but it is heavy with regret and sadness. She knows she can’t see him, not now. She isn’t ready.

A part of her fears she never will be ready.

She hears the chaos from downstairs and realizes that she might not be ready for this, either. She needs to get out of the house, take a walk. She’d just spent the last 8 weeks cooped up in a hospital, she can’t sit in this room any longer.

She pulls on her coat and is able to slink down the stairs, undetected. She slips out the front door, and her feet hit the pavement. Betty starts down the road, hoping that a little bit of quiet and fresh air will clear her mind. She plans on walking down to the stop at the end of the block, then back.

But when she gets to the stop sign, for some reason, she just keeps going.

* * *

The sky is darkening as Betty makes it to the trailhead at the north end of Sweetwater Park. She wraps her jacket snuggly around herself to try to fight off the cold. The early fall air nips at her, stinging her cheeks and nose. It smells like dead earth all around her, musty and wet, as she trudges through the leaves and branches in Sweetwater Park.

Riverdale feels like another lifetime ago - over the years, the memories of her youth had slipped further and further into her subconscious, yellowing and fraying around the edges.

Maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was better to forget.

When she really reflects on it, she can pinpoint what was the beginning of the end of her life here… her life with _him_.

“I’m not going to get in…” Betty had told him, sitting next to him in their usual booth at Pop’s.

“You a _re_ ,” he told her quickly, his hand reaching out to rest on hers, soothingly. “I know you are.” Betty couldn’t help but smile at his optimism, the way he always believed in her. It was as though he truly believed she could do anything and he showed that to her every day.

Still… there was that looming question burning in the back of her throat – the one neither of them were brave enough to ask. They’d been together for three years now, and the end of senior year was coming up fast. While Betty had multiple prospects for college, Jughead was still limping behind, and both of them knew a big change was coming, whether they were ready for it or not.

As Betty watched the way his thumb softly smoothed over the top of her hand, she was finally found the courage within her to ask him, “If I do… what will that mean?”

Jughead sat back in his seat, taking in a slow, deep breath. He reached up and slipped off his beanie as though he were giving his last respects at a funeral. He turned his body towards her, his palm cupping the side of her face sweetly. She could tell that he didn’t seem to know the right thing to say, so he leaned in and rested his forehead to her temple. She felt her eyes flutter closed, comforted by his breath on her cheek. Her hand reached up to absently play with his hair.

They sat like that for a long moment, marinating in the sound of the clanging dishes and the other, chatting diners.

Jughead’s voice was low and easy in her ear, “It means… that you are going to be the greatest journalist New York has ever seen.”

Betty opened her eyes and they were unsurprisingly teary, “No. For us, Juggie.” She turned her head so she could look him in the eyes, “what… will that mean for us?” Jughead paused, swallowed, and after a moment he nodded. He knew what she’d meant. They’d been avoiding this conversation for far too long.

“I don’t know,” he told her, his voice cracking.

“I’m going to be hundreds of miles away. And you’ll be-”

“ _Here_. I know,” he told her sharply. Betty winced at his words, “But when you get accepted-”

“ _If_ I get accepted,” Betty corrected, but Jughead’s thoughts never changed.

“ _When_ you get accepted… you can’t have anything holding you back. Not your family, not you friends…” When his sentence trailed off, Betty hoped they wouldn’t pick up where she thought they would. Still, Jughead continued with the words she’d been dreading, “not even me. You have to really go for it, give it your all. You have to chase your dreams-”

“I don’t want to go without you, Jug,” Betty admitted, a plea for him to come with her.

“I know. But you have to I couldn’t live with myself if I held you back from something so important.” Those words still haunt her.

Even _now_.

Even after all this time.

Betty shakes away the memories like a bad dream and continues to stumble along the uneven path. She rounds another corner and comes to a clearing. She can hear laughter and yelling; a group of rowdy people are hanging out by some cars parked haphazardly in the middle of the open field.

A giant bonfire roars in the middle of their congregation, illuminating the makeshift party with warm, amber light. Betty can’t help but feel mesmerized by the flames, watching the sparks float up into the cool, blackening September sky. She stands back in the trees, watching as the party rages on.

They are living in a state of carelessness that she can’t help but envy, especially as her own heart sits heavy in her chest. Coming back to the place that left her with so much heartache at such a vulnerable time in her life is a mistake. She can feel it.

After a moment, Betty sees someone spot her. She can see him squinting into the forest surrounding him. He waves over a buddy, “hey, I think there’s someone out there watching us.”

“ _Where?_ ” Another joins him, cupping his hands around his eyes to get a better look into the darkness. Betty slinks back into the trees to avoid being seen.

She turns and continues down the dirt trail. She hardly gets a few steps in before regrets her decision to walk alone in the woods. She can hear more voices, this time coming _up_ the path in front of her.

She has two choices: she can go back the way she came, where two rough-looking guys are currently on their way to scope out the area she’d just been watching them from.

Or she can continue down the path, ignoring the oncoming night-hikers and just hope they leave her alone. If there is one thing Betty learned during her several weeks at Brookhaven, it’s that life is full of choices just like this. Seemingly innocent decisions that can spiral you in two completely different directions.

The choice is taken from her the moment the hikers coming up the trail catch sight of her.

“ _Wooooo!_ And who’s _this_ little forest nymph?” one of them calls out, the other two breaking out into drunken laughter. They are on their way to the party. Betty’s fists clench, her heart speeds up. She takes in a long breath through her nose, trying to edge by them without any discussion.

“Where you off to, sweet cheeks? You don’t want to join the party?” another asks. She cuts through the three of them, her gaze averted to the ground.

Then, she hears it:  a voice from her past that stops her in her stride and knocks the wind out of her, snatching the breath from her lungs.

“ _Betty?_ ”

She freezes, her shoulders tense. Slowly, she turns around. Her eyes reluctantly trail up to rest on a face she hasn’t seen in so long - one she never thought she’d see again.

Jughead looks the same, in a lot of ways. But older. Harder. His eyes are wide in shock; he looks like he is just as startled to see her as she was to see him.

“Hi,” he chokes out. It bends. It cracks. Betty’s mouth falls open slightly, her arms wrapping around herself even more protectively than before.

“Hi,” she says back, although her voice is full of confusion and apprehension. It sounds like a question. She softly shakes her head and without another word, she turns continues on her way, faster than before. She can hear the three of them talking quietly behind her, hushed whispers of, ‘who was _that?_ ’ and ‘wait, you _know_ her?’

“Yeah, I know her. You guys go ahead. I gotta take care of something,” She hates the way he says that, as though she is an errand or a chore. can hear Well, she doesn’t want to _see_ or _talk_ to Jughead Jones. She isn’t in the right mind for this, and the memories she has left of him are _far_ too painful to process right now.

“Bett- _Betty!_ ” she hears him calling after her, and in a split second, she is a teenage girl, again. Her cheeks flush, her palms warm. She turns around again stiffly, just in time to see him almost trip over a tree root on the path, scrambling after her. When he reaches her, he’s winded, slightly out of breath.

“Hi,” he says again, but shakes off his stupor when he realizes that he’s already said that. “I mean, what are you doing here? What are you doing home?”

She feels her mouth hang open, but she can’t find the right words.

“Family… _stuff_ ,” is her reply is vague. She can’t very well tell him the truth. She nervously pulls on her sleeves, hiding the hospital bracelet that still adorns her wrist as she shifts her weight on her feet. While a part of her _wants_ to stay, she knows she should go. She’s not ready to handle this… whatever this is.

Betty turns swiftly, her ponytail swinging.  She knows she won’t make it very far.

“Wait, Betts-” The term of endearment catches her unaware and sets her heart on fire.

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” she snaps, spinning around to face him. She points an accusing finger in his face, “you don’t _get_ to call me that, anymore.”

Jughead’s hands rise in surrender, his eyes wide, “ _whoa,_ okay. Okay. I’m sorry.” Betty can see by the look on his face she’s being too harsh on him, but she can’t control herself even if she wanted to. She closes her eyes and her fingers come up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she fights off the headache she can feel coming on.

“ _What_ do you _want?”_ she hisses, but it sounds like a plea. When he struggles to answer her, her arms drop to her sides as she huffs out an annoyed sigh. “Good _bye_ , Jughead,” she says, even more sternly.

“Wait, I just…” he stammers, and he seems just as frazzled as she feels. “I just I want to talk to you-”

“Well, I don’t _want_ to talk to you, Jug!” she frustratedly exclaims. She wants to appear stronger than she feels, but he steps closer to her and it makes her breath hitch. How could so much time have passed, and yet when she sees him now, she feels exactly the same feelings that she’d experience the last time she saw him?

_So much left unsaid. So much unfinished business._

“I know,” he says, his voice low and soft like a parent lulling their child to sleep. “I gathered that when you never returned _any_ of my calls.”

Betty’s jaw tightens and she heaves a small shrug, “well… can you _blame_ me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, “And I know I don’t deserve _anything_ from you but… can we just go somewhere? To talk?”

She hesitates, her heart thumping, wildly. She silently chastises herself for allowing this to go on even as briefly as it has already, “I don’t think-”

He lowers his head to meet her gaze, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders, “ _Please?_ For old time’s sake?” She’s not sure why, but his touch calms her. Just as it always has.

“Okay,” she breaks, slowly nodding and knowing she is going to regret this. “But… _just_ for a little while.” She doesn’t trust him.

_No._

She doesn’t trust _herself_.

Then, his serious expression shifts and the hint of a small, victorious smirk curls the corners his all-too-familiar lips, “I won’t take up too much of your time.”

__________

Betty isn’t even remotely surprised when they pull into the parking lot of Pop’s on the back of his motorcycle. She lets go of him the moment she safely can - hugging onto him for the whole ride already seems to be awakening something within her that she’s long buried.

Jughead parks and hops off, and she can’t help but stare at him in the warm, pink glow of the diner’s neon lights - just as she had so many times before, all those years ago. She cannot figure out just why she allowed herself do this. She _knows_ better.

He reaches his hand out, offering to help her off the motorcycle, but she chooses not to take it. She tries not to notice the defeated look on his face when his hand instead falls limply to his side, and his other reaches up to adjust his beanie.

“I see you’re still wearing that thing,” Betty notices, climbing off the back of the bike.

“What can I say… old habits die hard,” is his light reply, but his small grin falls when she doesn’t smile back. She just needs to get this over with. Betty tells herself she can get through this as he leads her inside, but her stomach sinks when she sees him walking toward a booth.

 _Their_ booth.

He turns to her to see her stopped in her tracks, staring. He gestures toward the booth, nodding toward the empty table. But Betty points to another across the room.

“How about over here?” she suggests, instead. Jughead looks slightly shaken, but he doesn’t protest. He walks over to meet her at the booth of her choosing with no fuss.

Betty slides in, her nerves still on edge as she looks all around the diner – it looks the same as she remembers it. But when her eyes pull toward the register, Jughead clears his throat.

“He’s not here,” he tells her, reading her thoughts. She immediately thinks the worst, until Jughead chuckles and peels his jacket off. The buttons clink against the plastic booth as he drops it down beside him. “Don’t worry. It’s not what you think. Pop only retired. It was about a year ago.” Betty is relieved.

“Oh,” she breathes with a weak nod. Her head feels heavy and foggy. She tries to remember the last time she took her pill. She’s fairly certain she’s skipped a dosage with all of the traveling she’s done in the last 24 hours.

“What can I get you guys?” Betty looks up; she hadn’t even noticed that a waitress had approached them. Waiting beside them is a young, blonde, ponytailed girl. Her name tag says ‘Jessica’ and Betty guesses she’s probably still in high school. Jessica smiles brightly and pulls out her notepad from her white apron pocket. “Let me guess… the usual?” she asks knowingly in Jughead’s direction.

“You know it,” he smiles back, politely and yet seeing him smile fills Betty’s heart with a sort of forlorn longing she hasn’t felt in some time. He glances over at Betty and cocks an eyebrow; she can tell he’s trying to read her expression. “And… a number one with fries and a vanilla shake?” he guesses for Betty. He remembers her old order. Before she can allow herself to feel all warm and fuzzy about it, she stops him.

“No.” Betty’s reply is sharp. She narrows her eyes at Jughead, but then smiles up at the confused young waitress, “just a chocolate malt… please.” The waitress acknowledges the order without jotting it down, turning to go back to the kitchen.

Jughead chuckles again, this time with no humor, “Sorry, I just-”

“Look, _don’t_ act like you know me anymore, okay?” Betty finds herself spitting at him, harshly. She grits her teeth, speaking under her breath to get her point across without making a scene, “And _stop_ acting like everything's the same and nothing has changed, okay? Because things are _different_ now and you can’t just- you _can’t_ -” Betty can’t catch her breath. Her words are getting jumbled in her mouth and in her head and she feels like the walls of Pop’s Diner are closing in on her.

“ _Hey_ ,” Jughead says soothingly, instinctively reaching out to take her hand. She snatches her hand away, pulling at her jacket and fanning herself. Her cheeks are flushed, her whole body hot.

“I’m hot, is it _hot_ in here?” she asks him. Her heart is beating, her pulse racing. She keeps reminding herself that this was a bad idea…

_This was a horrible idea._

“Betty,” Jughead tries, “it’s _okay-_ ”

“ _No_ , Jughead,” she claps back, “it’s _not_ okay.” She blindly begins pawing for her purse under the table. She needs to go. She needs to be anywhere but here. “I-I shouldn’t even _be_ here right now.”

“At Pop’s?”

“No, _here_ . In _Riverdale_ . With you!” She instantly wonders who she is trying to convince. Betty pulls the strap of her bag up onto her shoulder, scooting out from the booth and standing. “I don’t need this right now. My life is _great_ , alright?”

“Okay.” Jughead’s simple response and for some reason, it infuriates her even more. She leans down, her palms on the table as she hovers over him.

“No, no it’s _perfect_ actually. Wonderful.”

“Then… I’m happy for you,” he replies, quietly, and Betty can hear how ridiculous she’s being. Still, she can’t bring herself to stop pushing.

“I live in New York, now, you know? And I have a _career_ and a _life_. I got out of this place.”

“Just like you always wanted,” Jughead reminds her, unable to mask the melancholy in his voice regardless of how happy he claims to be for her. It makes her knees feel weak and for some reason she cannot begin to understand, she slowly sits back down across from him. Once again, she knows she should leave. But something inside of her keeps forcing her to stay.

At least for some kind of closure.

A silence settles on them when neither knows how to proceed. They stare back at one another, and are mutually thankful when the waitress arrives, setting down a soda and a malt in front of each of them, respectively. Betty assumes that Jessica senses the tension as she doesn’t say a word, merely hurries off to tend to her other (albeit sparse) customers.

“Look… I’m so sorry, Betty,” Jughead says, but Betty just scoffs and looks away from him out the window to the darkness of the empty parking lot. She wipes at the tears that are pooling in her eyes. If he only knew how much he destroyed her. If he only knew how many years she went, wondering if she would ever get her heart to beat correctly again.

“Yeah, well. Sorry isn’t enough, sometimes, Jughead.”

“I can’t even begin to make things right with you. I know you won’t understand but… when you left for New York… I was going through a lot-”

“ _We_ were going through a lot. _Not_ just _you_ . And I asked you to come if you remember. I _begged_ you. You made me go without you. You made me leave.”

“You know my life was here. I needed to be here for my dad. For-”

“For the Serpents. Yeah. _Got it_. And how did that work out for you?” Jughead’s shoulders slump and he blows out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Can we just… start over? One night. That’s all I’m asking for. Please. Let me try to make this right. Let me try to help you understand.” His eyes are so much like the boy she remembers, the boy she could never forget. It still feels so surreal, being here with him. And who is she kidding? She wasn’t ever going to leave this diner until she got the answers she desperately needed to let him go for good.

To move on.

“Okay,” her voice cracks. She tells herself she’s doing this for herself, _not_ for him. Clearly there’s a part of her, deep down inside, that _needs_ this.

“Remember when we used to sit in that booth… over _there?_ ” Jughead asks, nodding toward their old booth and trying to change the tone of their conversation.

A younger couple is sitting in it now - a dark-haired boy and the waitress from before. A new generation. They two are staring longingly in each other’s eyes, their whole future untarnished and ahead of them.

“Time sure moves in cycles, doesn’t it?”

“A lot happened here,” Betty recalls, a wistful sigh on her breath. “We sat there the night I first knew I loved you.” The memory flashes through her mind like lightning. It was the night she showed him her scars and instead of recoiling or judging her, he kissed them. She isn’t sure she ever even _knew_ what love was before that moment.

And if she’s honest with herself, she isn’t sure she’s ever experienced it with anyone else, since.

“That’s also where we talked about me moving to New York,” she adds, somberly. “You told me if I got in… I had to go and give it all I had.”

“And _did_ you?”

“It’s hard to tell anymore,” Betty admits, her words breaking in the middle and making her feel weak. She doesn’t want to be weak around him. But there’s a sob in the back of her throat, aching to come out. She looks around the old diner, flooded by all the memories that she’d left in the back of her mind and heart all this time, just to survive. That’s all she’d been doing since the day she left: existing.

“I got to the city and I was always looking for you, you know. In every dark-haired, beanie-wearing guy I passed on the street.”

“Were there a lot?” he teases, and his smile is infectious. She feels the corners of her own mouth pulling, desperate to reciprocate.

“You’d be surprised,” she replies as emotionlessly as she can, the first hint of a joke on her lips in God knows how long. She looks away from him as she shakily but bravely tells him, “I was always hoping it was you. That you’d come after me.” When Betty looks back at Jughead now, she can see the remorse in his eyes. She wonders if he carries his regret on his chest like a badge of honor, the way she carries her own.

“I spent a lot longer than I care to admit wishing that I had.” His eyes look wet when they flicker back over to that ominous, old booth. “I remember… We sat there when we dreamed about running away together. Just… hopping on the back of my motorcycle and taking off,” Jughead recalls, a soft chuckle bookending his sentiment. He bows his head and fidgets with his hands for a moment before looking back up at her through his eyelashes. He flatly adds, “As if two sixteen-year-olds would have known how to make it in the world. We were so hopeful. So in love.” The words said aloud make Betty’s throat close up.

“We were also naive,” she reminds him. “We were so young.”

“We aren’t so young anymore…” Jughead says, barely above a whisper and Betty’s chest tightens, her vision blurs. If _only_ it were so easy - to just forget everything and fall into each other’s arms as though no time had passed at all. But life isn’t so simple. There are so many factors standing in the way, just as they always had. Factors like time, distance.

Factors like Sam.

“Betty… Do you… do you ever _wonder-_ ” Jughead begins, but Betty cannot even let him finish that torturous, agonizing thought.

“I’m engaged,” she blurts - like ripping off the band aid. The words hit him hard, she can see it in his expression. It’s crushing, but she isn’t sure she would have the courage to bring it up later. She has to get it out now, before they find themselves carried too far along by their memories and could-have-beens.

“Oh,” he chokes out. He clears his throat and tries again, “Wow. I mean… That’s _great._ ” He forces another smile, but the pretending just seems to make them both even sadder.. Especially when he tells her, “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.” She merely nods back, her eyes falling away from his once more because she can’t bear to see the sadness in his eyes.

But once again, Jughead leans down to meet her gaze, “You _are_ happy… _right?_ ”

Before Betty can answer, Jughead’s phone chimes. He halts her stalling words and thoughts with a finger as he reaches into his coat pocket for his cellphone. His expression changes, his eyebrows pulling together as he reads the message.

“Can you, uh, excuse me for a minute? I need to go take care of... _something._ ”

“Sure,” Betty says, somewhat relieved with the interruption. At least now she can try to get her head back on straight. She wasn’t planning on telling him like this.

Jughead slips from the booth and hurries outside. Just as his shoes hit the asphalt, a classic, black Cadillac comes rolling into the parking lot. Betty doesn’t want to snoop, but she can’t help but watch from the window as Jughead approaches the car, bending down to talk to the shadowy person behind the wheel. After a few moments, he reaches back and pulls some cash from his pocket, slipping it to the anonymous driver. In return, he is given a brown, cardboard package.

Jughead hits the hood of the car twice with his hand and waves them off, and Betty averts her eyes back to her frozen malt as Jughead jogs back into to Pop’s, package in hand. She notices the telling, white band of her hospital bracelet peeking from under the cuff of her jacket. She quickly tucks it away.

“Hey, Jess?” Jughead calls out when he gets back in, and the waitress’ head turns from her boyfriend to peer back at Jughead. “Can I actually get that to go?” He thumbs through his wallet and slaps down a $20. “And a few orders of fries. Keep the change.” She takes the money and heads back to the register, and Jughead slides back into his side of the booth. He sets the mysterious package under the table.

“What’s in the box?” Betty wonders, frankly.

“Oh, that? Nothing exciting. School supplies,” he waves off vaguely, but Betty is not so convinced. She should have known better. Of _course_ Jughead is probably moving drugs; he’s had a lifelong career in the Serpents by now. It only makes her realize that she really doesn’t know him anymore.

Just like he doesn’t know her.

Those two kids they used to be, sitting in a booth at Pop’s, were long gone now.

Jess arrives with two bags of fries, plus Jughead’s order to go. He thanks her and stands, holding out an expectant hand toward Betty.

“You coming?” he wonders, Betty’s eyes shift between him and the box, uncertainly. “C’mon. I just have to do this one thing. I want to finish talking to you. I have a lot to say… don’t _you?_ ”

“Yes,” Betty gently nods but does not say.

The distinct feeling of regret settles deeper and deeper in her stomach, just like with everything she’d felt since leaving the safe, sterile, white walls of Brookhaven.

* * *

The loud, rumbling sound of the motorcycle dies as Jug kills the engine. When Betty looks up, they are in the parking lot of Riverdale high school. Betty stares at the dark, looming building. It seems so ominous in the dark, hunkered down in the shadows.

And yet, it seems so much smaller, somehow.

Jughead gets off the back, beginning to untie the box from the back of the bike without much of an explanation, and Betty can feel herself growing more and more apprehensive.

“Are you… breaking into the school?” She asks, the first words that have left her lips in what seems like forever. Jughead snorts, shaking his head. He then nods up to one of the windows, glowing with light. Someone is there.

“No, just meeting someone. It will be quick.” He takes the two bags of food from the back of the bike, nudging them at Betty. “Here… can you take these?” She stares down at the bags, but hesitates. “Betty. They’re french fries, not _heroin_. Please can you carry them?” he asks again. She can sense his impatience with her is growing, but she’s less than comfortable with the situation she is currently finding herself in.

As she follows Jug into the school, her apprehension grows. Maybe it’s not just this mysterious delivery, but being back in the halls of her old school. This was the place that so much happened… this was the place she and Jughead began their journey together, trying to bring down Jason Blossom’s killer…

And now they were here under seemingly _less_ than heroic circumstances.

“Wait, Jughead… what are we doing here, _really?_ ” Betty finally demands as she and Jughead walk hurriedly down the dark, echoey corridor of their old high school. She spies her old locker on the way, her homeroom class.

“I already told you. I just need to drop this off,” Jughead tells her, gesturing toward the box in his hands.

“Oh, right…. The ‘ _school supplies?_ ” she air quotes and rolls her eyes. Jughead casts her a sideways glance.

“ _Right._ ”

“Jughead, stop,” Betty says, reaching out to grab him by the arm. He turns to her to see what her issue is, and Betty doesn’t hesitate to scold him for the shadiness she’s now involved in.

“Look, what you do as a Serpent is your own business. But _really?_ You’re delivering a package in a high school... at night.”

“Right,” Jughead nods again, and she can’t tell if he’s amused or offended. Before she can decipher between the two, he continues on his merry way.

“I don’t want any part of this,” Betty exclaims, putting two and two together and fearing the worst. She digs her heels into the ceramic tiled floors of the high school, her forehead creasing. Jughead stops, turning around slowly and huffing out an exhausted sigh. “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for breaking my heart, Jughead Jones. But I at least thought you were better than _this_. Clearly, Southside life has really done a number on your morality.” Jughead’s eyebrows raise and he hucks out a laugh. Betty’s frown deepens, “It’s not funny! And I don’t want to be dragged around on your shady deals all night.”

“Noted,” Jughead says with a nod. “Now… Are you _done?_ ” Betty just glares back at him, disgusted by his flippant attitude about what he’s doing. Before she can tell him that, however, the door to the Blue and Gold room opens, and Betty sees two confused teenagers staring back at them. Other than their curious expressions, the first thing she notices are their Serpent jackets.

“Hey, Jug,” the boy says first, his brow furrowed. His inky black hair is slicked back, his form tall and lanky. There is a short girl with bleached blonde hair and dark eyeliner beside him. “I thought I heard you.”

“The one and only,” Jughead says, pushing the door open further and bringing the box into the room. Betty watches on from the doorway, nervously.

“You got the stuff?” the girl wonders, grabbing at the unopened package greedily. Betty almost turns to storm out, but stops herself when she hears them begin conversing about the box’s contents - she _has_ to know for sure.

“Yeah. It’s not the _latest_ model, but it’s much better than the dinosaurs you guys have been using.” The box opens and the two teens eagerly reach inside, fetching out a couple of laptops and a digital camera. “My hookup said the laser printer still needs some tweaking, so it will take a week or so before I can get that over to you. So you’ll just have to make do with the old one, for now.”

“You are a _lifesaver_ , Mr. Jones,” the girl gushes, admiring their new equipment with stars in her eyes.

“Mr. _Jones?_ ” Betty parrots from the doorway, an amused smirk crooking her lips despite her anger from before. She slowly saunters into the room, and as the pieces of the puzzle start falling together, she feels more and more like a jerk for going off on Jughead only moments ago.

The two kids look at the blonde stranger in more confusion. Jughead’s hand finds the back of his neck as he lazily gestures between them and Betty.

“Uh, guys… this is Betty. She’s an old friend of mine.” They utter out a quick, unimpressed hello, but they are far too interested in their new hardware to really care. “Betty… this is Arrow and Gigi.” He takes the bags of fries from Betty’s arms and sets them on the table. Arrow immediately digs in. “You guys don’t stay here much later, okay?” Jug instructs them, glancing over at the clock.

“We’re onto something with this story, Jug,” Arrow tells him, his mouth immediately full of fries. “We’re so close to busting this thing wide open. I can _feel_ it.” Betty smiles to herself, instantly transported back in time. She can see of all the late nights that she and Jughead sat in this very room all at once, going over the clues and details of one Riverdale mystery after another.

Once again, two new kids had taken their place as time may be cruel, but it certainly moves in circles. She feels her heart expand in her chest, a warmth.

Jughead keeps chatting with the two teens as Betty wanders the room. Every single relic seems to contain a memory, ones she never thought she’d uncover again. She can remember the first time she brought Jug here, the day she asked him to join her at the Blue & Gold. She had no idea that asking him to help her on the paper would be the beginning of their saga.

They’d spent countless hours here, writing and planning. She’d helped him apply for colleges here, proofread his admission essays. It was her own admission essay she’d written in this very room that had gotten her into NYU.

The beginning of their end.

“Okay, I think we are going to take off,” Jughead announces, snapping Betty’s head back in his direction. Her eyes have become misty and she isn’t even sure why. For the first time in longer than she can remember, Betty Cooper can feel things.

They say goodbye and head out to the hallway. Before they can get too far, Betty reaches forward and takes him by the forearm. His eyes slowly trail down to her hand, wrapped snugly around his arm and holding him in place from wandering further.

“I’m s _orry_ Jug… about everything I said before. I had no right. I just thought-”

“You thought I was pushing drugs to teenagers.” Betty nods sheepishly. “I _told y_ ou it was school supplies.”

“Okay, yeah. And I thought you were being shady. I didn’t _know-_ ”

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, Betty Cooper.” He smiles sadly but pats her hand gently to let her know it’s okay. They turn, walking in step slowly back toward the front of the school.

“So… Mr. _Jones_ , eh?” Betty teases, sweetly. “Do you… teach?” Jughead just laughs at the very notion as they continue their stroll.

“Not quite. I _mentor_. When the school district started getting budget cuts, the Blue  & Gold was the first to go. That and the drama department. I offered to come in and keep it alive for free.”

“ _...Why?_ ” she breathes. “I mean… don’t you have a lot of _other_ things to do?” He shrugs. She had forgotten what it felt like to be passionate about something. She misses that part of herself the most.

“It was important to me. It keeps some of the younger Serpents busy and out of trouble. And… and I have a lot of memories in that office, you know?” She knows that he’s talking about memories of _them_ , but she can’t bring herself to address it. Because just being in that room with him for the couple of moments they were there had made her heart ache with nostalgia. As though all their memories in there had just been waiting for her to return.

“So, you’re _running_ the paper, then?”

“No. _They_ are. I just come in and help where I can… teach them the ways of a conscientious observer. How to be truth-seekers. And you know, get them some new equipment when I can.”

“So, that explains the laptops.”

“Yeah. I have a friend who gets a major discount on electronics and other hardware from the store he works at. When the store is done with the floor models, they usually just end up in the dumpster. He takes them home and refurbishes them. Sells them to me for next to nothing.”

“And you bring them here,” Betty concludes, mystery solved.

“Right. As you well remember, the school doesn’t really fund the Blue and Gold. So, I help out where I can.”

“ _Great_. So, you’re basically Robin Hood.”

“Basically,” Jughead smirks. He points a finger in her face, mockingly adding, “so don’t act like you know me, okay? Because things are _different_ now.” Betty scrunches her nose and fakes a laugh to mask that she is mortified by her own words from before being thrown back at her.

“Alright, fine,” she surrenders with a slight pout.

“Alright,” he agrees, a ceasefire. They stand in the cold air beside the motorcycle, neither remembering the walk from the B & G office to here. Betty shoves her hands deep in her coat pockets, unsure what to say next. Jughead jingles his keys nervously, “I suppose I should get you home?”

“No,” Betty blurts before she can stop herself.

“ _No?_ ” Jughead shoots back at her, amusement in his voice and brightened eyes.

“I just mean… maybe we should go somewhere else. To talk a little more,” she suggests, shyly.

He cocks an eyebrow, “why, Betty Cooper. I thought you didn’t want to be dragged around on all my shady deals, tonight.” That’s twice now that her own, malicious words have come back to her and she doesn’t like how they taste.

“Oh, shut up, Jones.” She tries to brush it off, casually.

Jughead leans down, their faces so close that her breath gets caught, “Then… does that mean we can start over? For _real_ this time?” Betty stares back at him with wide eyes. If he were any closer, they would be kissing. His voice transforms to a low rumble as he very seriously tells her, “I did a bad thing to you. But I’m _not_ a bad guy, Betty. I _love_ this town. Sure, it still has its demons. But I’m trying to make it a better place. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

And it appeared that even before the day that Betty boarded a bus to New York, that was really all Jughead had ever done, since.

* * *

The Whyte Wyrm is bustling, which is no surprise for a Friday night. But things feel very different from the last time she was here - the air here has shifted. It’s not just the same old Serpents running around, but more of a mixed crowd. Betty is even fairly certain she recognizes a few notable Northsiders - something _unheard_ of back when she lived here - all hanging together under one roof.

Jughead is greeted with a bit of a cheer, and some raised beer mugs, like a king descending down upon his kingdom to mingle with his people. Betty watches in wonder as he receives a few slaps on the back, some handshakes. Jughead looks back at her, his hand instinctively reaching out to clasp onto hers when he sees her falling behind. He does this as though it’s nothing, but the feeling of his hand wrapping around hers sets her cheeks on fire.

She can’t remember the last time she felt so… _alive._

She pulls herself up to him, her other hand gripping his arm to stay close, “What are you, like the Mayor of the South Side?” Betty quips teasingly, but she’s only half-joking. Jughead was right before: things _are_ different now. He snorts out a laugh.

“ _Yeah…_ something like that.” Jughead’s hand finds the small of her back as he leads Betty through the crowded bar and up to the counter. Betty climbs up onto a stool, Jughead slipping up onto the one beside her.

“ _Wooow…_ Her Royal Highness, Betty Cooper,” the girl behind the counter drones out, “never imagined we’d see _you,_ again.” It takes Betty a couple seconds to recognize this full-grown woman as Toni Topaz - although, not _much_ more grown, considering she is still probably less than 5 feet tall. Her long hair is now cut into a short pixie cut, and instead of the trademark pink she’d been accustomed to, it is now a deep, rich red. Her nose is pierced and she looks like the very essence of ‘ _cool_ ’ in her studded, leather vest.

“Toni, hi,” Betty replies, surprised but not at all surprised to see her old friend. “H-how _are_ you?”

“Same old, same old,” she rattles off, casually. Her eyes pull to Jughead and she drapes her bar rag over her shoulder, leaning her elbows on the counter, “So, I suppose _this_ is why Sweetpea texted me that you never showed up to your bonfire party?”

“Wait… that was _your_ party?” Betty turns to him in her seat and he just shrugs.

“It was nothing.”

Toni scoffs, “ _Not_ nothin', Mr. Modest. Jughead here just got a youth center completely funded on the South Side.” She turns to address only him with narrowed eyes, “That party was a _thank you_ . One that you _deserved_.”

“Yeah, well. You know I hate parties. They’ll have more fun without me, b _elieve_ me.”

“Damn, Cooper. That’s some rock you got there,” Toni changes the topic, pointing at Betty’s eyesore of an engagement ring. “Who made an honest woman outta you?” Betty sees Jughead shoot Toni a bit of a disapproving look - Betty had forgotten just how outspoken Toni could be, but Toni seems to get the memo. “Me too, by the way,” she says holding up her hand. “Although, it’s _far_ less glamorous than yours.” Betty squints to see a band tattooed around Toni’s ring finger. It looks as though two tiny snakes are intertwined all the way around it.

“Wow, congrats. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“ _Ha!_ ” Toni snorts, beginning to pour drinks for some other customers. “I wouldn’t say he’s _lucky_ but… who _else?_ Sweetpea.” Betty should have known that. Not long after Riverdale and Southside High had merged, Sweetpea and Toni had coupled up. It had been bumpy, but they were still going strong when Betty moved to New York.

“I never really saw myself as the marrying type, plus, he and I were so on and off again. But two kids later we just thought… why not?” Toni pulls a photo from the back of the bar, sliding it down in front of Betty. “Ugh, and now I’m one of those gross, sappy women who shows old friends photos of their kids within the first three minutes of seeing them.”

Betty looks down at the photo - two smiling little ones, both boys, draped in Serpent gear already. She smiles softly, wondering what her life would have been like if she’d stayed. When she looks back up, she catches Toni giving Jughead a look, the kind that says, ‘ _are you sure this is a good idea?_ ’

“Let’s get a drink,” Jughead suggests when he sees Betty staring. He coolly pulls Betty’s stool closer to him, her right along with it. She can feel herself blushing, “what do you want, Cooper?”

“Gin and Tonic,” Betty tells Toni.

“ _Wooow,_ ” Toni says in mock amazement, but her tone falls flat quickly after, “and here I half expected you to order an Appletini, _Ms. Fancypants_.” Betty ignores the jab. Toni could think whatever she wanted about her, she didn’t care.

“ _Chill_ , Toni,” Jughead nearly growls, and when Betty looks over her shoulder at him she can see that his gaze has darkened in Toni’s direction. She shuts up, although it’s hard to miss the slight eye-roll she gives on her way to the backbar. Betty can only assume Toni is just protective of Jughead, and thus wary of _her_. The last time she saw Toni was at this very bar, and it hadn’t been pretty.

It was right after Betty had officially gotten accepted to NYU. Her mom and gone all out to organize a celebratory party on Betty’s behalf - and Jughead hadn’t come. Betty was so upset that night, waiting for him to show and… he just never did. She was embarrassed, coming up with excuse after excuse whenever anyone asked where he was.

The truth was… he’d been steadily distancing himself from her since that day in Pop’s, when he told her she had to go on without him. Almost as though he were trying to get her to leave him, just so he didn’t have to be the one.

So, when the party had died down, Betty knew exactly where to go: The Whyte Wyrm. And sure enough, she found him here.

“Where _were_ you?” she’d asked him heatedly, unable to hide the hurt from her face. Jughead just shrugged, and she knew he was shutting down.

“I lost track of time,” he had mumbled, his gaze unable to meet hers because he knew she could tell when he wasn’t behind honest.

“You don’t get to do this. It’s not fair,” Betty spat at him, her heart sitting broken in her chest. “You don’t _get_ to just push me aside like I was nothing - like _we_ were nothing.”

“That’s not what I’m doing-” he tries to protest, weakly, but Betty isn’t having it. She doesn’t even care that she’s drawing an audience, various _oohs_ and _ahhs_ coming from the Serpents nearby. Even Toni was watching the trainwreck unfold.

“Yes, it is. Because it’s easier than having to watch me move to New York.” Betty watches as Jughead clenches his jaw, stuffing down any emotion that might be trying to bubble up inside him.

“I only have two weeks left here. And clearly, you don’t plan on coming with me… so.”

“And _what,_ Betty? Struggle in the city? Work a hotdog booth?” he snaps back at her. “New York is for _you_. There’s nothing there for me. I didn’t get into NYU, I don’t have the money to live there. I’d just be one of those sad saps, following my girlfriend because I have nothing else going for me-”

“That’s not _true_ , Jug! You are _talented_ , a-and _smart_. We could make it out there, you just don’t think you can-” He takes her by the shoulders, his eyes darkening.

“No, Betty. I don’t _want_ to. That’s the difference.” She searched his eyes, trying to see if he was lying then. His stare never falters, never falls. She sniffs, wiping her tears and shrugging. No truce will be made today.

She folds her arms over her chest, “Is this really how you want to leave things?” His lack of a response said everything she needed to hear, and Betty didn’t see Jughead but one last time before she left for New York.

These were the memories she’d been avoiding. These were the memories that she’d stuffed deep down, never to open again. And looking at him now, an arm’s distance away, makes her want to wrap herself up in him and _never_ let go.

Everything seems to be moving in slow motion as he chats with Toni now, laughing and looking genuinely happy. Would things have been better if he’d come with her to New York?

Would they have been worse?

“Jughead Jones,” a low, booming voice calls out across the Whyte Wyrm. The crowd slightly parts and Betty gulps and hides under her hair when she sees two uniformed police officers nearing them.

“Officer Larson, Officer Garrett,” Jughead nods to greet them.

“Your guys being good over at Sweetwater?” the officer with the name “Garrett” across his shiny name tag asks him.

“They better be,” Jughead chides back. The other officer slaps him on the back and hucks out a laugh.

“Glad you’re here to keep ‘em in line.” Betty watches the exchange curiously before realizing that these are two _off-duty_ police officers, hanging around the Whyte Wyrm as though it were the most normal thing in the world - talking to a Serpent as though they were old friends.

“Can I get you boys anything?” Toni asks over the bar, but they let her know they should be on their way, instead.

“Jug, make sure your guys break it up at a reasonable hour,” Officer Larson says on his way out, to which Jughead just nods and salutes.

“Will do, officers.”

“Is this real life?” Betty wonders aloud. Jughead is nonchalant, taking a sip off his beer - another thing she never thought she’s see. Jughead had stayed away from alcohol, always afraid he’d end up like FP. And here he was, sitting in a bar, having a beer… running this town.

Betty turns to face him on her stool as Toni sets her drink down in front of her.

 _“How…?_ ” Betty utters, unable to find the words she’d searching for.

“How, _what?_ ”

“How… do you do all this? How do you mentor kids a-and secure funding for schools and bridge the gap between the north _and_ …” She stops herself, folding her lips to subdue a smile and shaking her head. She sighs with a shrug, “you’re amazing. That’s all.”

Jughead offers back a sort of shy grin, his eyes falling from hers, “glad you still think so… really.”

When she looks down, she realizes that her hand is resting on his knee - it happened without her permission or her knowledge, but she doesn't want to pull it away.

Her voice wavers with emotion, “You did it. You did _everything_ you always set out to do here. I’m so proud of you, Juggie.”

They both inwardly wince at the use of his most precious pet name - it just slipped out. As he said before: old habits die hard.

“How’s the city?” he asks her, trying to bring them back down to reality a bit.

“It’s… New York,” is her vague reply. She is infinitely more interested in his life _here_ than talking about her life back in the city. “I mean… _you_ know. You’ve been, right?”

“Once… a few years ago. Just for a weekend.”

“Oh,” Betty says, her breath short. She didn’t know that hearing that he’d been in the same city as her at some point would make her feel so shaken. Riverdale was in the same state, but it might as well have been on another planet.

“Yeah, I thought about looking you up but…”

“That’s okay,” Betty rattles off quickly, waving him off. She turns to face her drink and bites down on her bottom lip to keep from crying.

“Who’s the guy?” Jughead asks, his eyes blankly but blatantly staring at her ring. Just like her hospital bracelet, Betty isn’t sure why she hasn’t taken it off. It’s just another reminder of everything broken in her life, right now.

“His name’s Sam.”

“Uh- _huh_ . And _what_ is _Sam?”_

“… he’s an investment banker.”

“Wow… how _exciting_ ,” Jughead deadpans, rolling his eyes and sipping back his bottle. Betty tries to keep from snickering. She wonders for a moment if Jughead would like Sam, but comes to the conclusion very quickly that no… no, she doesn’t suppose he would. And Sam wouldn’t like Jughead, either. “So then. Do you _love_ him?” Jughead’s rude, abrupt question catches her off guard. He says _love_ like it's a vulgar word.

“What?” Her head snaps back as though she has been slapped.

“You heard me.”

“Well, that’s a _rude_ question...”

“And I would think it would be a really simple answer, considering you’re marrying the guy.”

Betty bites again at the fleshy part of her bottom lip and stirs her drink with her straw.

“I thought I did,” she tells him, softly. She shakes her head, averting her gaze back to her drink. “But it feels different, now. Here. With you.”

There it is again, that victorious, cheeky grin on his face, “I’ll take it.” He clinks his beer with her glass, a silent _cheers_ , and she follows his lead.

* * *

Only a drink or two in, and she's a different Betty.  

" _C'mon_ , Jug. _You_ dragged me here. _Dance_ with me." She's kicked off her shoes, her hair is down. She's a little sloppy, but as always in control of herself as she extends her hand out to him. For a split second, she is the Betty that is reminiscent who he knew before; carefree. Fun. Happy.

It's the booze. She knows this. She knows that as great as she feels right now, all her problems are still there, lingering just under the surface.

Still, she _wants_ it to be real. Because for a brief moment, it feels like it did before everything had broken them: Time and air suspended. The sun revolving around them, and them alone.

“Dance with her, Jones!” Toni shouts over the hustle and bustle of the bar. Betty smiles at him with mischief in her eyes. He’s outnumbered.

Jughead stands with a short grunt, dragging his feet over to her - he never _could_ say no to her, and it makes her body feel like it’s on fire. She takes both of his hands, swaying them a bit and giggling.

"Alright, Jones. Loosen up the hips, you're not a robot, _right?_ " she instructs him, dropping his hands and gripping onto his waist, guiding him. He smirks and continues to stiffly lob from side to side. It's alright - she's swaying enough for the both of them. She lifts his arm and spins under it. It’s totally out of sync with the music, but she doesn't seem to care about that.

Just for a little while, in this moment, she is free.

He spins her again and catches her from behind, his chest up against her back as they lazily wobble from side to side. She laughs. Deep, belly laughs. She can hear him chuckling close to her ear from behind, feel his chest vibrating against her back as his long arms wrap her up and pull her into him.

_This…_

This is what home feels like.

This is what love feels like - she’d forgotten.

The song bleeds into another - a slow one pouring from the old jukebox by the bar. They don’t hesitate to match their movements to the music and she turns around, gently rocking. She peeks past him to see Toni watching them as she turns it up. She has no doubts Toni turned _this_ particular song on in the first place - she knew what it meant to them.

Betty’s heart hurts when she thinks about how he must have felt without her. Did he feel the same way she did, all this time? Like something was missing from him? There was a Jughead shaped hole in her heart she’d tried so hard to fill, but never could.

Her head feels heavy on his chest now, his arms wrapped tightly around her and hers reciprocating on him. Not around his neck - his waist. Like a hug. Like two people comforting one another as a sad, familiar song plays loudly through the speakers:

_I’d go hungry, I’d go black and blue_

_I go crawling down the avenue_

_No, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do_

_To make you feel my love_

She feels his grip on her tighten and she melts into him. She’s not sure when the laughter tapered into tears, but she can’t keep them from coming. So she closes her eyes and wishes with all of her might that when she opens them, they will be 18 again and there will be no more missed time. That they can just do it all over again. And do it right, this time.

She would have stayed.

She _should_ have stayed.

“You okay?” he says quietly by her ear - so quietly she almost misses it.

The happy moment from before has come and gone, and they both withdrawal back into themselves, their minds on darker things.

"Yeah…" she lies.

"Me too." he swallows, trying to look down at her face but only sees the top of her blonde head. "I _never_ stopped thinking about you, Betty."

She sighs and feels her body slack under the weight of his arms.

Maybe she didn’t realize it until this moment, but she was _always_ thinking about him.

The song ends. They slowly part. Their faces are close again when he takes her hand.

And he looks like he’s about to say something, but his eyes slowly trail down to her wrist that he’s currently gripping onto, and Betty remembers the hospital bracelet and pulls away fast. She tries to hide it, yanking down her sleeves, but it is too late.

“What is that?” he asks, worry painting his features. “Betty, what’s on your wrist?”

“It’s nothing,” she mumbles, turning from him quickly. She pushes past him to seek refuge in the ladies room - but he’s right on her heels.

“Wait, hold up-” he objects, stopping her. Her cheeks are warm as her eyes dart around the bar, terrified that everyone is looking at them. She knows they aren’t, but it doesn’t make her any less paranoid. He senses this - he’s not about to call her out in front of everyone.

“Let’s… go for a walk.” She silently nods, her heart racing. Gently, Jughead leads her through the crowd and back outside to the waiting cold.

* * *

They walk farther than they had anticipated - they walk aimlessly. They find themselves back at Sweetwater Park - where this crazy had night all started - before he has the nerve to ask the burning question.

“How long were you in the hospital?”

Betty inhales a choppy breath, she shrugs, “I don’t know… a month? _Two?_ ”

They slowly walk in step along the river’s edge, the mood between them tense. She can tell he wants to know _everything_ , but she’s not sure she has the mental strength to tell him. And yet, despite feeling this way, she finds herself rambling, anyway.

It’s almost as though she never had anyone who actually wanted to hear it.

“I don’t remember a lot… just that my work threw me an engagement party and I left. I remember getting some wine on the way home and then… nothing. My mind just goes blank when I try to remember.” She stops herself and glances at him, wondering if she’s bored him yet. But he’s just listening, taking it all in. There’s a distinct sadness in his eyes that makes her feel heard. So she keeps going.

“They sent me to Brookhaven for inpatient care. I saw a psychiatrist and went to group meetings and learned coping mechanisms but… I still feel like I was just reading from a script, going through the motions to get released. And then, when I did get released… I realized I might not be any better than the day I checked in.”

“Did you… try to hurt yourself?”

She nods because she still hasn’t been able to say the words aloud.

“I guess… that’s what they told me. I just… I feel like there’s been this hollowness inside of me. I can’t remember the last time I looked at the stars in awe or felt any kind of passion for… for _anything_. It’s like my lust for life has just been sucked dry. I spent so much of my childhood learning how to stuff my feelings down inside that I’m scared I’ve forgotten how to feel anything at all.”

His hand slips down and takes hers, lacing their fingers together. It’s warm and comforting, like they were made for each other, “do you feel this?” he asks her, his voice deep and raspy. She looks down at their hands, perfectly clasped, before her eyes flicker back up to his. She barely nods.

“Yeah,” she croaks. She licks her lips and swallows because her mouth feels dry. “Probably too much.” He’s looking at her lips, and she knows he’s thinking about kissing her. She knows because she is actively trying to stop herself from doing it first. When he begins to lean in, she stops him, “you were my family. You know that, right?”

He pauses and then silently nods. They turn and keep walking, their thoughts loudly buzzing in their heads. This was the last place they had seen each other before she left for New York. He'd left her a simple note on her front door: Meet me at Sweetwater Park. 

It was there that they said their last, tearful goodbyes... Betty had never forgotten the pain she felt that day. The way it felt to be saying goodbye to her best friend... her soulmate. The way it shattered her when she turned to leave, she was late for the bus, but her feet felt encased in concrete.

The way it felt when she never looked back... and he never came after her.

Soon, Betty and Jughead reach a small boat rental kiosk with three or four rowboats tethered to a dock. Jughead cocks a mischievous eyebrow at Betty.

“Should _we..?_ ” She looks between him and the boats, trying to catch his drift.

“Should we… _what?_ ”

Jughead answers her question by smiling coyly and walking up to one of the boats. He puts one leg inside, one firmly planted on the dock. He waves her over.

“C’mon!” he insists, a playful youth in his voice she hadn’t heard since they were teenagers.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” she laughs back at him, but he is not giving up so easily. He waves again, tilting his head to the side.

“It’ll be fun! When was the last time you had _fun_ , Betty Cooper?” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, but she still isn’t convinced. She looks over her shoulder, no one is around. But still, it’s technically stealing.

“That’s not our boat.” She winces, hearing how silly it sounds the moment it leaves her mouth. He lets out a loud, ‘ _Ha!_ ”

“Did you just say that’s not _our boat?_ ” He teases her, stepping back up onto the dock. “Gee, Betty. I didn’t know that wasn’t our boat-”

“Oh, stop,” she laughs at herself, her heart feeling light. She stomps over, climbing in and grumbling, “happy? I’m getting in your damn boat.”

“Atta girl! _That’s_ more like it,” he grunts as he untethers the boat a pushes them off the dock, further into the water.

It’s a wide part of the river where the water is calm, gently moving down. He takes an oar, sitting across from her and paddling a few times as they quietly listen to the sounds of crickets and the trees and the water. It’s peaceful - more peaceful than Betty has felt in some time. The meditations she learned in the hospital had nothing on this feeling. Especially when her gaze comes back to rest on Jughead’s face, sitting right across from her.

They chuckle lightly when their eyes catch, and then without another thought, they both lean forward, their lips colliding roughly in the middle. Jugheads hands come up bringing her closer as he kisses her even deeper, as though he’d been waiting forever to be able to do this.

They both had.

He gets up, trying to get closer to her when the boat begins to sway. Jughead loses his grip, and the two of them go toppling out of the boat and into the water of Sweetwater River. Once she’s fully submerged, Betty hears nothing. She sees nothing.

But she feels everything. She is overtaken by a sense of freedom, as though the water of Sweetwater River is baptizing her, cleansing her of all of her anguish and her frustration. For the first time in God knows how long, she feels the urge to swim to the top instead of sink down below - the feeling of drowning in her everyday life had been so much worse than actually physically drowning. She looks up through the murky water and she can see the moonlight, shining down to her.

She swims to it. Kicking, pulling at the water. She wants to live. She wants to live.

Before she makes it to the top she feels arms gripping her, pulling her the rest of the way through the current and back up to fresh air - Jughead. He’s got her.

Jughead would never let her drown.

“Are you alright?” he asks her, sucking in thin breaths. His hands grab her face, getting her to look at him as she sucks in air. She nods, coughing out the bit of water she’d accidentally swallowed down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, you?”

“Yeah.” Together they swim the couple of feet back to dry land.

They get to shore, shivering. Betty realizes that she lost her purse somewhere in the water, but she doesn’t care. As he takes her hand, helping her out of the thick, sinking mud of the shoreline, they begin to laugh hysterically.

They are freezing and wet and they have a mile-long walk back to his motorcycle…  but they are _alive_.

“Okay, now I suppose it’s _definitely_ time for me to take you home,” He says through chattering teeth. Surprisingly, she’s not cold. She comes forward, taking his face in her palms. She searches his eyes before she presses another deep kiss to his lips.

“No,” she tells him, breathlessly. “No, take me to your place.”

_________________

Jughead unlocks the door to his small, dimly lit apartment. He tosses his keys aside as he steps into the entry, closing the door behind them. Betty steps in cautiously, her bare, cold feet padding softly against the hardwood floors. She holds herself as her wet hair drips down her back, causing her to visibly shiver.

"Here we are. Home, sweet home," Jughead sighs, peeling his soaked jacket from himself like a second layer of skin. He hops up and over his sofa, crouching down to start fidgeting with his fireplace. Betty just watches him, still unable to bring herself to say anything to him; all the emotions from back at the river are still weighing far too heavily on her mind and heart.

Her fingers softly brush her lips as she recalls the way they felt when they roughly moved against his, the way it made her body feel like it was on pins, coming alive after a long, dormant sleep. It suddenly becomes so vividly clear, _everything_ she'd been missing.

The fire begins to grow, crackle, painting the apartment in warm light. He stands up and smirks triumphantly. His hair is drying, curling from the murky river water. He slips his hat from his head as he stares back at her, resting it gently against the fireplace hearth to dry. He runs his fingers through his hair, clearing his throat.

His voice breaks as he tells her, "you can take a shower if you want. I can put your clothes in the dryer..." Betty nods back at him absently, transfixed by his puzzling expression. It’s hopeful, yet melancholy, and for some reason it makes her chest ache. It is as though his mere expression outlines her thoughts over the last five years, perfectly.

Like maybe, _just maybe_ , he's spent all this time feeling just as alone as she has.

She’s not afraid to say everything she’s been waiting to say. And now is the time.

"Or you can just come over here by the fire and get warmed up. I can make you some tea o-or some coffee-" Jughead's words trail off as he sees the tears in Betty's eyes. He looks afraid to ask, but he does anyway. "Betty… What's wrong?"

"My life has never been the same since you walked out of it," she confesses through a sob. His mouth drops, his eyebrows pulling together, but he doesn’t interrupt her. He lets her cry.

She doesn't want to hurt him. She doesn't even want to be saying any of this but she just can't stop the tears from falling. She wishes she could just ignore it, all the pain she's feeling - ignore it like she's ignored everything else in her life for the past five years.

But she can't. It's all flowing from her in waves, like getting thrown into the past and given the opportunity to express _everything_ to him now that she never could then.

And even through the anger and the sadness, all she keeps thinking over and over again in her head is, “ _Make it okay, Jughead. Make it okay, again. Make it okay--”_

“A-and I’m sorry, Jug, but-” she sniffles, wiping her cheeks roughly with the sleeve of her soaked shirt, “-but losing you changed _everything._ You were my _everything_. A-and then you were just _gone_ and I had to spend _years_ learning to live without you. But I wasn’t living... Being with you tonight makes me realize I'm _still_ only half alive." She's never heard herself sound like this. There is so much pain in her that had just been bottled up, waiting for a moment like this. "And I never even got to know why. I spent so many months - no, _years_ \- wondering. _Why_ didn’t you come for me? Why did you let me _go?_ I spent all this time wondering what I did _wrong-"_

"You... you didn't do anything wrong-" he tries, weakly. His eyes fall from hers to a fixed point on the floor, guilt and remorse radiating from his very core.

“Then _why?_ Why did you do that to me?" she chokes, shaking her head sadly. Betty shifts her weight on her feet, wrapping her arms around herself in a tight, comforting hug because he isn’t. "Didn’t you know how much I loved you? Didn’t I make it clear _every_. _single. day._ with every text that went unreturned and every call that you routed to voicemail?"

She remembers so clearly - maybe _too_ clearly - all the times he ignored her because it was too hard. And then, months after she was in New York, he started reaching out to her and she could never bring herself to answer.

"Don't you understand? When you left me at Sweetwater River that day, I _hated_ you, Jughead! I _hated_ you-" she sucks in a deep breath, feeling like she found a break in the tidal waves and is able to suck in oxygen for a moment until the water crashes over her again. Sensing her panic, Jughead rounds the couch, coming closer to her. She can see the desperation his eyes, desperation for her to understand. And a part of her does, but it hurts so badly.

His hands reach out to her, trying to soothe her, "I was trying to do the right thing. I _never_ wanted to leave you. I just wanted you to go for your dreams. I didn't want to hold you back-" She smacks his hands away.

"But that was _my_ choice, Jughead! And you just, you _took_ it from me. I will never forgive you for that! You _broke_ me-!"

"I didn't mean to do that!" his voice raises, the emotion thick in his throat. He’s trying not to cry, but he’s dangerously close.

"-I never recovered from that. And now _every time_ I look at Sam, I have to accept that he's _not_ you. And it’s like you saying goodbye to me at the riverside… over and over again." Her fingers run through her golden hair, squeezing. "It kills me every single time-”

“You’re _engaged_ , Betty! Don’t you think that kills _me?_ ”

Without being able to stop herself, her hands snap out and push him away, passionately, “I wanted _you_ , Jughead! I didn’t care why or how or where, I wanted _you!”_

She wants _to kiss_ him.

She wants _to kill_ him.

More than anything, she just wants the aching in her chest and the screaming in her mind to stop. She wants him to reach out and heal her because he’s the only one who can.

_He broke her. Now he had to buy her._

“You are my _soulmat_ e. And you just threw it all away, like it was nothing... Like _we_ were nothing-"

Jughead takes in a staggered breath, his mouth falling open to say something, _anything_ , but instead he takes a step towards her and wraps his arms around her so tightly that Betty feels the air stolen from her lungs. His hand rests on the back of her head, pulling her as close to him as possible, as though he is trying to force all of her broken parts back together. She needs his arms, she needs his comfort. She wraps her arms tightly around him as she sobs into his chest. After a moment, her fingers are digging into his back, clutching him closer to her.

Gripping.

_Needing._

“Then… stay,” he whispers hoarsely, his words circling her ear and making her breath hitch and her heart stop.

As if it were really that simple.

He pulls from her, pushing her hair back from her face. He cups her face in his hands, as though she is even capable of looking at anything other than his at his point. His misty eyes match her own, blue to green.

“Don’t go back to New York, Betty. _Please._ ” His voice cracks and with it so does her heart. She stares up into his pleading eyes and there is no mistaking it - he is crying now, too.

“I didn’t beg you to stay before, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. _Please…_ stay. Let me take care of you. Let’s rewrite history. Let’s do it right this time-”

“Jug,” she hiccups, shaking her head. “I _can’t._ ”

“You _can._ Please, Betty. I _love_ you. I'm so sorry-” Before she can protest again, he catches her lips with his. She can't fight it, even if she wanted to, and instead sinks into him, drinking him in like a fine wine. Her hands instinctively grip onto his arms, pulling him closer to her, because all of a sudden, she feels five years of anger and sadness and frustration begin to melt away.

“Say that again,” Betty breathes huskily when his lips leave her mouth to pepper kisses on her cheek, her jawline, her neck.

“I’m sorry,” Jughead mumbles into her skin, and Betty closes her eyes and feels a smile far larger than she ever thought she was capable of forming. She stifles a laugh.

“No… the _other_ one.” Jughead pries himself from her, his face confused for just a moment before his features soften and he knows exactly what she needs to hear.

“I _love_ you, Betty Cooper.” She giggles slightly, her stomach in knots as she brings his lips back to hers, and murmurs, “I love you,” back to him. She can feel him relax under her touch, like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear that.

Or, at least the last five years.

The way he looks at her dries up any doubt that she ever had - no one has ever looked at her like that - with such awe and revere. It confirms everything she’d ever felt or loved about him in that one look. She kisses him again softly, deliberately, almost forgetting that this moment is real, that she can reach out and touch him.

 _He_ is real.

She reaches up slowly, trying her best not to let him break eye contact with her as she slips her hands under the cotton of his damp t-shirt, running them up his chest and over his shoulders. She pushes it from him as though she is trying to strip him of a layer of himself. He leans down, his forehead pressing against hers and she almost jumps when she feels his chilly hands move up and down the length of her sides under her shirt. She bites her lip, holding back an involuntary shudder - the _good_ kind this time.

She perks up onto her tiptoes, dotting his lips with small, uneven kisses before he presses forward, his hands suddenly up in her hair, taking over and holding her in place as the kiss becomes more intense. He picks her up in one swift movement, walking her the couple of feet to his bedroom and setting her down sweetly in front of his bed.

Jughead’s hands graze her belly, pushing her back ever slightly onto the bed where she sits, staring up at him with expectant, nervous, green eyes. She reaches for his belt buckle brazenly, unfastening it and helping him out of his pants - another layer shed. She leans back onto her elbows with a smile, letting him scale the length of her body before she feels herself crushed under his pressure. She basks in the feeling of his trailed kisses on her lips, her jaw, her collarbone. Everywhere he touches tingles, sending shivers all over her and she had forgotten what it felt like to feel this blissful.

_To feel this loved._

His mouth searches for hers in the dark, and Betty moans softly into his lips. He pauses for a moment, and she can feel a small smile form on him; she can tell he is happy with himself for eliciting this kind of reaction from her. And then, Jughead stops, his body moving from hers and Betty feels the stinging air of the bedroom hit her wherever he is no longer connected to her. He scales her body once more, unbuttoning her jeans and slipping them down the lengths of her legs before returning to her once more.

Betty leans in again, unable to keep their bodies separated for any longer - hadn’t all these years been enough wasted time?

She helps Jughead remove her bra, but quickly finds herself surprised that those parts of her aren’t his main focus. It is the little parts, the way his fingertips graze her collarbone, her elbows and knees, the small of her back. He is a topographer, mapping out the lay of her body.

“Umm… Have you done this a lot?” Betty finds herself uttering, despite herself. Jughead’s smile reaches his eyes, more than likely sussing out a bit of jealousy in her curiosity. He shakes his head, but Betty remains skeptical, raising an eyebrow. “I’m kinda finding that hard to believe, Jones,” she murmurs, trying not to focus too intensely on the way it feels as he tugged at the hem of her panties a bit.

“I wouldn’t say _a lot_ ,” he sniggers lowly, shaking his head. “And _certainly_ never like this... never like it is with you,” he adds very seriously, and Betty wordlessly nods her approval before he reaches into her underwear, his fingertips ghosting over her skin.

She writhes a bit under his touch, and he lets out another breathy laugh, “Easy now. I haven’t even _done_ anything yet.” Betty is torn between wanting to smack him and wanting to kiss him, but she is rendered incapable of making any such decisions as his hand continues to expertly roam her body.

“Shut up, Jughead,” she mumbles, her eyelids feeling heavy.

“I _love_ the way you say my name,” he hums, and she feels her own smile pulling at her lips as well.

“ _Jughead_ ,” she said again in an overdramatic but playful whisper, bringing his face back to hers and slowly moving their lips in unison. She is pleased with herself, especially when Jughead emits a low groan from the back of his throat, one that makes her feel like she is doing things right.

His fingers bend against her and her back arches involuntarily from the sudden pressure and then, he's just there. He crawls up the length of her body, and she welcomes him eagerly as he entwines their fingers, kisses her gently, and slides easily into her.

Her fingers clench onto his tightly, their breaths blending, their eyes locked.

_Home._

Their bodies move together in unison and it is like he is piecing her back together - she knows she was doing the same for him.

They turn themselves over so he was sitting up and she is straddling him, her hips moving over his. His hands trail down the length of her back and to her hips, his mouth closing over her right breast. She moans at the sensation, her hands running back through his hair.

Then he is looking up at her, and the electricity shooting between their eyes makes its way to the rest of her body. She moves her body back and forth, their hips staying connected, and when she feels him fully inside of her, and she finally knows what she was missing, all these years.

They both moan, and his fingers dig into the skin on her hips and thighs as he rocks with her. Betty feels breathless; he continues to hit a spot that he never once had trouble finding. Her soul is finally connected to his again, and with that thought, she whimpers out his name over and over and over as she feels that familiar, tingling feeling that pushes her over the edge. His breathing hitches before he grasps onto her, almost as if his life depended on it.

She trails kisses all over his face as they calm down, the taste of his skin just as addicting to her as ever. He closes his eyes and relishes in the attention, and she knows he hadn’t felt this way since they were 18.

She hasn't, either.

“You’re back…” she said lowly, almost to try to convince herself that all of this was real.

His eyes flutter open and lock with hers, dreamy and half-lidded. She doesn't want to let go of him, but she does anyway, twisting her body to lay her head on his chest as they catch their breaths.

Betty revels in the way it feels to have his warm, soft skin pressed tightly to hers once more. She takes in the constant, deafening sound of his heartbeat drumming against her ear. After a long moment, once they have finally stilled their rapid breathing, she sighs in sweet relief.

Betty asks him, “what would our lives have been like?”

“ _Hmm?_ ” he hums back, their quiet, mingled whispers the loudest thing in the cool, dark room.

“If I never went to New York. Or if you’d come with me?” She hears him take in a long, contemplative breath. She can feel his fingers rake affectionately through her hair.

“I spent every single day wishing I had.”

“Me too,” her voice whimpers back. It’s bittersweet, this burning pain in her chest. A longing that had long lay dormant in her, only now awakening. “I always wondered… what we could have been.”

“I wrote our ending a hundred times.” she lifts her head to look him in the eyes.

“You… you _did?”_

“Yeah… hell yeah." He sits up slightly, pulling her up with him as he props up some pillows. "A Hundred different lives. A hundred ways we could have gotten it right. I never stopped hoping.”

“Like what?”

“Well, in one life? We escaped to Paris in the late 1800s. I was a poet. You sold flowers on a cart in the market.”

Betty imagines this and giggles, her smile bending wide, “oh, a _poet_.”

“Yep.”

“I always _knew_ you were a lover, not a fighter... What else?”

“Oh, there’s plenty," his tired voice chimes back. "We traveled everywhere. Ancient Rome. 1950’s Hollywood-”

“How _glamorous_ ,” Betty sighs with feigned awe. But really… she _is_ in awe. Because even now, even after all the time, she’d never strayed too far from Jughead’s mind and heart. And he’d never left hers. “So, tell me… outta _all_ these lives we lived… which was your favorite?”

Jughead’s fingers slink deeper into her hair, tugging gently to get her to look up at him. There’s a softness in his eyes as he somberly tells her, “the one where you stayed.”

Betty's lips greet his once more, because such a romantic sentiment should always be greeted with a kiss. But then... life is still there. Beckoning her and hiding there in the back of her mind.

“Juggie… you know I can’t stay here... _right?”_

“What?... _Why?”_ She sits up to face him, draping his bedsheets over her. In the end it's all the same old story, the same reason why they had to part in the first place. Their lives were too different, their paths too far apart.

“I... have a whole _career_ there…" She reaches out for him, pleadingly asking him, "Come back with me. You can come to New York.”

“Betty… I can’t. This town needs me. My entire _life_ is here.”

She thinks back to how hopeless she felt that day at Pop's, long ago, when they dreamed about jumping on the back of his motorcycle and never looking back. And she knows they just need to sleep, readdress this all in the morning. But the darkness creeps up on her heart again, the hopelessness returning.

“Then… I guess we are back where we started,” she mutters. His mouth drops, his face sobers. He's figuring out what she already knows - this might never work for them.

Still, he reaches for her, pulling her back to his chest and pressing a kiss into her golden hair.

“We still have tonight.”

Betty’s eyes flutter closed and she chokes back a sob, praying to just fall asleep to keep from crying.

Maybe this is all they ever had. Maybe they just weren’t meant to stay in each other’s lives.

* * *

Betty awakens the next morning to an empty bed, and her heart feels both emptier and fuller, somehow. She searches his apartment for him, but when she looks down into the parking lot below, she sees that his motorcycle is gone.

 _He’s_ gone.

She finds the note by her folded clothes on the couch. She reaches down and holds it gingerly in her fingers, drinking in the simple but gut-punching words on the page torn from a notebook:

“ _Saying goodbye to you once almost killed me. Saying goodbye to you twice would have finished the job._ ”

She collects her clothes and dresses. She stares around his apartment in a daze. While lots of her life feels foggy right now, she’s grateful for their night. It healed her. She knows now that no matter what choices she makes from here on out, she needs to put herself and her mental health first. No more stuffing things down, no more avoiding. She’s ready to face them head on.

She hesitates on her way out, wondering if she should leave him a note, but she’s not sure what it would even say. She picks up his pad of paper, scribbling a simple, ‘thank you. Xo Betty’ On her way to the front door, she sees his old Sherpa jacket hanging on a hook. She softly smiles and drapes it over her tiny frame - something to remember him by.

She begins the long walk back to the Northside of town, knowing fully that she’s leaving her entire heart behind.

But also knowing that somehow, someday…  she’ll be okay.

* * *

“Where were you?” a voice asks as she makes it to the top of her parent’s driveway. It’s a familiar voice… one she certainly wasn’t expecting.

“Sam,” Betty utters, her eyes wide and her heart in her throat. There he is, sitting on the stairs.

“Whose jacket is that?” he asks, looking her up and down. Betty shrinks into the jacket, pulling the sleeves over her palms and squeezing to keep from harming herself.

“Um… I…” her words stammer, getting jammed up in her throat as her gaze falls down at her feet, ashamed. He gets up and slowly nears her. She looks up at him through her eyelashes, her breath short. She feels dizzy as he leans down and presses a kiss into her forehead. He wraps his arms around her and she can’t help but notice just how _wrong_ it all feels.

“Forget it,” he sighs. “I don’t think I even want to know I’m just… I’m glad you’re okay. Let’s get you cleaned up. Our plane leaves tonight, I want to get you home, where you _belong-_ ”

Strange that New York no longer felt like home to Betty. In fact, maybe it never had.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head against him. She feels him stiffen, and when he pulls away from her he’s got an all-too-familiar, disapproving look on his face. The one he always got, the one that had made it hard to ever open up to him or share who she truly was. She was always afraid he’d judge her, as though he was never really hers.

She was never really _his_.

“If you’re afraid of what people are going to think, I told our friends you had a family emergency. No one needs to know that you-”

Betty shoves herself further from him, scowling at him, “that I _what_ , Sam?” she hisses. “That I went _crazy?_ That I tried to off myself?”

“Betty, no. Of course not. Besides, we _talked_ about this. At the hospital. You _weren’t_ trying to kill yourself-”

“No, Sam. I _was_ . And lying to myself and everyone else about that isn’t going to help me get better,” she cries. She doesn’t bother to wipe the tears away. She lets them fall. “I’ve spent _years_ hiding parts of myself away from the world. Away from _you._ ”

“Betty, that’s not true. I love you-”

“You _can’t_ love me, Sam,” she laughs through the tears. She feels hysterical, but my god at least she feels something. “You don’t know me. I’m not this perfect girl. I am broken. I am faulty and a little bit messy but damn it, I’m _me_ . I’m a _person_. And I don’t know what I’m doing with my life or what I want but… I know that I don’t want to marry you.”

“Wait… _what?_ ”

“I’m sorry,” she says lowly, but firmly. The emotion has drained from her face, “It’s not even your fault. I think I’ve always known that, I just never wanted to admit it. It took me a little bit of time to catch my breath. And now that I’m here, standing in front of you and seeing _you…_ I know for sure. I do _not_ want to marry you, Sam.”

She holds her palm out, the ring encircling one of her scars. He looks down at it, his eyes wide. She’d been with him for four years - four years - and he’d never seen her scars. Never seen the wounds she wore out in the open, maybe just hoping someone would see them, see her.

He’d never seen her.

Only one person ever had.

He takes the ring from her palm wordlessly, not even trying to fight her as he breezes past her and to his car, parked out in the front. She doesn’t watch him leave, just sighs out the breath she’s been holding for far too long - it feels like the first breath of the rest of her life. After she hears his car roll away, she turns.

But the street isn’t empty.

There, leaning against his motorcycle, is Jughead. She’s not sure how long he’s been down there, watching this go down - she’d never even heard him roll up. She just knows immediately… _this_ is where she’s meant to be.

A smile spreads across her lips as she slowly makes her way down the path to meet him. His smile mirrors her own as he meets her halfway.

“Think he’ll be alright?” she wonders. Jughead shrugs.

“I don't know. I wasn’t.” Betty sucks in a sharp breath, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously.

“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t want to say goodbye.”

“I don’t,” he spits out quickly. He clears his throat and kicks at a stone on the path, bashfully, "So I'm not. I was... actually kinda hoping I could convince you to stay.” Betty’s smile grows and a single laugh escapes her lips. When she looks back up at him, her eyes are teary again. That’s all she’d ever wanted from him. It only took him 5 years.

“I was an idiot not coming after you when you left, Betty. I should have asked you to say, or I should have gone with you. And we’ve already lost so much time but… I'm gonna try one last time. _Please._ Don’t go back to New York. I will make you happy here. I swear-”

Betty stops his words with a kiss, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close to her. He’s surprised at first but not for long, his own arms slinking around her and pulling her even tighter to him. His fingers catch in her hair as she deepens the kiss, drinking him in.

“Elizabeth Cooper! Where have you been! We’ve been worried _sick!_ ” Betty hears Alice shout from the front door. Betty and Jughead break their moment to look back toward the house, where Polly, Hal, Alice and the twins are staring out at them from the open front door.

“Sorry, mom!” Betty calls out, her grip never loosening on Jughead.

“Hi, Mrs. C!” Jughead calls out, raising up an arm to say hello. Alice rolls her eyes, ushering everyone back into the house.

“I should have known better,” she calls out over her shoulder, to which Betty and Jughead just laugh.

“Well… should we go back in there and face the music?” Jughead suggests. Betty smiles broadly, pressing another quick kiss to his lips.

“I have a better idea,” she says, sauntering over to his motorcycle. Jughead follows suit, climbing back on. Betty pulls the helmet on, her arms snaking around his waist tightly as he kicks the engine on.

“Where are we going?”

“I have no idea,” she laughs. So, he just starts driving, no destination in mind. Because anywhere with him will be better than anywhere without him.

As long as she’s with him, she’ll always be home.

* * *

 

_Fin_

 


End file.
